WHN Return To Fiji
by Mounty Swiss
Summary: Did you know that once – just once – Ironside didn't have the final say when his young co-workers ganged up on him? That was in February 1970, when they had returned from Fiji...
1. Chapter 1

„Return to Fiji":

When he arrives in Fiji to spend his holiday with an old friend, the Chief is suspicious about news that his friend has gone to visit him in San Francisco. After sending for Mark and Ed to join him, Ironside himself promptly disappears, leaving the boys to put the pieces together themselves.

"**What happened next" to "Return to Fiji"** February 1970:

Did you know that once – just once – Ironside didn't have the final say when his young co-workers ganged up on him? That was in February 1970, when they had returned from Fiji, Ed and Mark with the impression of having missed a holiday.

And that's how it came to that:

When Ironside started to open some of the piled up mail on his desk, he noticed an envelope with several special stamps on it. It came from Europe – from Switzerland, to be exact. Curiously he opened it. It was an invitation to a criminalists' congress. "The way how you do an excellent job as a criminalist in spite of your handicap is a real encouragement for other handicapped people. We invite you and your staff to our congress with the kind request to give the other participants an account of your experiences. The members of your staff might add information from their point of view. We will be happy to bear the expenses for travelling and lodging." It was signed "P. Mayer, director of Zurich police."

"Okay children," the Chief exclaimed, "this time you've won: Let's travel to Switzerland!"

That Sunday evening, Zurich was looking magical under a thick layer of snow. Roads were tricky though, and Ironside and his people were glad that director Mayer had sent a mini-van to pick them up at the airport – including Ironside's wheelchair.

They were brought to a nice old hotel in town. "Mr. Ironside, you will have our best suite ... it's the only one with a phone and an integrated bathroom. Director Mayer insisted on that."

Mark stayed with the Chief while Eve and Ed got ordinary single rooms – not quite what Eve was used to.

**Where?**

The next morning, when Eve and Ed were about to enter Ironside's room, they bumped into Mark who was just coming back from town.

"I was out to get a newspaper at a kiosk. They don't have any American ones in this hotel."

"Good morning..." – "Chief," Eve wanted to say, but didn't, for Ironside wasn't there.

The door to the bathroom was ajar and Ironside was nowhere to be seen, and neither was his wheelchair.

Where could he have gone?

The window was wide open, too, and it was chilly in the room. There was an open map of the area lying at the table, and a wine bottle standing on it.

Uneasily Ed paced around. "I don't like that. I don't like it at all." For him, the adventures of Fiji were still a very vivid memory. "Under normal circumstances the Chief would at least have closed the window before leaving. And why should he have put a wine bottle onto a map? That's just not like him."

Had the Chief been abducted again? And without putting up a fight?

"Last time he hasn't either", reminded him Mark.

"But in Fiji, he's had a reason not to fight: To help his friend."

The three of them were stumped.

As a very young marine, before Vietnam, Ed had been sent to Germany for a short time. There he had learned some German. He was able to order a steak, but not very much more. But he could at least read the label on the wine bottle. 'Dinharder Blauburgunder' was the name of the wine. When they removed the bottle, they also found underneath a village called 'Dinhard'. It was situated in a region called 'Zurcher Weinland'.

"That's 'wine-country of Zurich'," translated Ed. "Dinhard is obviously the place where the wine comes from. "'Blau' means blue – it's a red vine, not a white one. But I can't place the 'Burgund' – that's someplace else entirely."

"It's in France, isn't it?" Mark knew.

That was Eve's chance to demonstrate her superior education: "'Burgunder' must be 'Pinot Noir' in French. It describes the species of the grapevine. It's planted in relatively cool regions. So this name doesn't tell us anything specific."

"But you _do_ think that the Chief wanted to give us a hint where to look for him?" Mark asked.

Thoughtfully, Ed took charge. "Eve, please ask at the reception desk if he's left a message for us. If not ..." Ed's voice trailed away.

Swiss hotel personal usually spoke German and French, some English and Italian, too. Eve, knowing English and French, had the best chance of getting the needed information. She picked up the phone and dialed the number of the reception clerk.

"No message. He noticed a big man in a wheelchair though. The Chief left the hotel together with two other men. He can't describe those men, he had a lot to do with people checking out."

Ed decided: "I suggest that we consider the wine bottle on the map as a hint. Let's leave a message for Ironside in case we have misunderstood him, rent a car and then head to that village – Dinhard."

They drove through a probably lovely landscape, but they didn't see much of it, because the fog got thicker by the mile. Nevertheless there were children playing in the snow, sledding and skiing. Obviously, they had holydays.

It also started to snow. Ed, who drove the little rental car, had to be careful because of the small, snowy roads. He was very focused and drove as fast as he dared.

Unfortunately, Dinhard consisted of at least five hamlets plus several homesteads. They reached the hamlet which seemed to be the central one. At least there was a little grocery store. None of them had had any breakfast and they were getting quite hungry. Mark absolutely wanted to buy some food – you never knew when there would be another possibility. Eve went along with him because of her language skills.

**Sirens**

Ed tried to relax for a moment. He walked a few steps and stretched his cramped arms and legs. Suddenly a siren went off. Ed was instantly wide awake. The sound came out of the post office a little further down the road. Ed ran towards it. He saw a green car back out of the parking ground in front of the post office. Half of the rear license number was covered by a rag, but Ed could read the last three numbers: 849. Behind the rear window there seemed to be a big, dark shadow...


	2. Chapter 2

Behind the rear window there seemed to be a big, dark shadow...

Then the car was out of sight. That looked a lot like a post-robbery!

Two women and an old man were standing around. They were talking excitedly all at once. Ed tried to get their help in his clumsy German:

"I'm a police officer. Could anybody please call the local police?"

But the people didn't seem to understand a single word of what he had said.

A thin little boy stepped out of the snow-covered garden in front of the post office and walked towards them. He was speaking Swiss-German: "This gentleman is stating that he's a policeman. He wants you to call the police-station in charge. Please, Mrs. Huber, can you go into the post office and do that?"

Ed was surprised: "Thank you - you seem to understand what I'm saying, don't you?"

"Yes, I do – and you seem to know what to do! Go on, it'll work like that."

In the meantime, Eve and Mark came running out of the store. "What happened?"

The siren was still wailing. "It looks like the post office has been hit."

"Boy, can you ask them if anybody has seen the license number on the front of the car?"

A very quick smile went over the kid's face, but he translated Ed's question to the two remaining locals. The woman answered, and Ed understood "1-7".

"The lady only saw the first two numbers, they were 1 and 7. The rest was covered up."

Ed took out his notebook and wrote down what they knew up to now: 17849 or 17x849. That was at least something to begin with, if only the local police would hurry up.

"Would you please let me take a look into that notebook? I can probably find out if there's a missing cipher and which one," asked the boy.

"How? You didn't see the front of the car, did you?"

"No, I was in my igloo until the siren went off. But I saw the same car yesterday. In retrospect I think that perhaps he was spying. I calculated the checksum of the license number. I always do that with big numbers. It was 8."

"Hey, that can't be right, because 8+4+9 is already more than 8!"

Ed wasn't really surprised that a child of roughly five years couldn't figure out a checksum. On the contrary: He would have been surprised if he could.

"Yessir. But if the checksum is more than single-digit, I do it again, until it is. So we can figure out the third digit – if it's not 0. Let me calculate backwards! 17-9=8. 8-4=4. 13-8=5. 14-7=7. 7-1=6. The third cipher has to be a 6."

Ed was quite impressed by the quick thinking of the kid.

"Ah – I understand: If the sum is less than the subtrahend, you take a two-digit number with the same checksum. Let's check it: 1+7+6+8+4+9=35. 3+5=8. You could be right. If you're sure that it was the same car, we will report to the police to look for a car with this license number. Can you tell me anything at all about the car?" – Ed just wanted to test the reliability of the small child.

"It was Volkswagen Variant, a 1962 or 63 model, green."

Ed chuckled. It had been a VW station wagon indeed, although he couldn't have told of which year.

"Tell me – how old are you, my peewee, and how come that you know all that?"

The kid wasn't offended at all. With a big grin he answered: "I'm seven years old, but I know I'm a bit small. I'm not interested in cars at all, but my father and brother are big fans. And the thing with the checksums... that's just a hobby."

At that moment, another siren mixed in: A police patrol car was driving into the small parking-lot.

A man with black hair and a clouded face who had just come by shouted in Swiss-German through the cacophony: "What's that ruckus all about?"

When both sirens stopped at the same time, Ed's little helper answered:

"The alarm went off again – but perhaps this time there were really thieves in the post-office."

The dark man vanished into the named office.

The door of the police-car opened and a heavy, sixty-year-old policeman got out. His uniform provided him the needed authority: "Who will explain to me what happened here?"

Ed showed him his badge and tried his German again. "Do you understand me, Sir?"

"No, not really. But I'm glad to have a good eye-witness." And to the people standing around: "Can anybody translate what the man has to say?"

"I can."

The officer wasn't thrilled about the size of this volunteering interpreter. "Nobody else?"

The woman who had contributed the two numbers of the license number answered:

"We all can't understand that stranger, and none of us really did see very much. I'm afraid that your best option will indeed be little Rebecca."

Ed pricked his ears. 'Little Rebecca'?

The child had obviously noticed his embarrassment, and smiling she whispered to him: "Don't bother – I like being mistaken for a boy!"

Together they explained the situation to the policeman, first of all the issue of the license number. An 'inter-cantonal' tracing of the car was arranged.

Finally, the dark man and a tall, slim woman in her forties came out of the post office, followed by an elderly lady. "Those are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Boner", Rebecca informed Ed.

She stepped towards her tall mother. "Are you all right?" she asked her.

For the second time within a few minutes, Ed was baffled: He would have expected a little girl to hug her mother in such a situation. But Rebecca acted like an adult: Caring, but quite cool. And moreover - she wasn't even noticed, probably because her mother was rather agitated about the robbery.

Mrs. Boner gave her statement about what had happened inside the building to the police:

"When that man with his ski mask came through the door, I was startled. He stepped to the counter with his gun aimed at me, tossed a plastic bag at me and shouted: "Money!"

I was so frightened that I couldn't think straight: I pushed the glass-doors of the counter closed, pinching the hand with which he held the bag."

"Is the glass of those doors bullet-proof?" the policeman wanted to know.

"No, it's just normal window glass."

"That was a stupid thing to do," her husband threw in. "You could have been shot."

Ed thought that he might have been a little more empathetic towards his wife.

Mrs. Boner seemed to see that the same way. Angrily she answered:

"Oh, next time I'll give them what they want! After all it's not _my_ money."

"Please go on, madam," asked the policeman.

"At that instant, Mrs. Von Allmen, our letter carrier, came in." Mrs. Boner pointed at the elderly lady. "She helps us about two hours a day. She was shocked, too, about what she was seeing. She was so frightened that she leaned backwards against the alarm-button, hitting it with her shoulder. You must know: That silly thing has no covering and goes off all the time, and nobody cares anymore when it does. But this time it was okay that it went off, and the burglar sure enough cared. He pulled his hand back with the bag – Actually I don't know what he needed that bag for, he would have been quicker leaving it just there – and he ran out. Mrs. Von Allmen and I needed some time to recover and manage to stop the alarm, that's why it was wailing for such a long time. And that's about it, I think."

Mrs. Von Allmen nodded. She couldn't add anything. She hadn't even seen the car, because she had just come back from her tour and had been arranging things in the post-garage before she came into the office. Both women agreed in reference to the description of the burglar: It was very probably a man, quite tall and large, dark clothes, ski-mask.

With a little help from Rebecca, Ed could follow the wild story and inform the others.

One by one the people left the place, finally also the policeman in his car.

There were just Eve, Ed, Mark, Rebecca and her parents left on the small parking space. Ed explained to Eve and Mark why he took a special interest in the burglars: Because of the shadow behind the rear window who might or might not have been Chief Ironside.

_Author's note:_

_The story of the post-robbery happened more or less like I described it, and so have many__ of the events told in this story - only Ironside and his people weren't involved! :-)_

_And of course all the names and characters are changed. Any resemblance to living people would be unintended and coincidental._


	3. Chapter 3

...the shadow behind the rear window who might or might not have been Chief Ironside.

In the meantime they had found out that Mrs. Boner's French skills were very good. She could communicate with Eve without any problems. Mr. Boner spoke French, too, but his French was probably about as bad as Ed's German.

"By the way - how come that you out of all people here can understand me?" Ed asked Rebecca.

"I had a friend, a very old widow called Jane. She died last month. She came from America. She spoke just about like you. People said that she was a bit strange, but I liked her and I often went to see her. I played with her cat or went to the grocery store for her and she told me a lot about herself and about the earlier days. She even taught me some English."

Now that everyone had calmed down they began to feel the cold. "Come on in everybody, let's have a cup of coffee, office-hours are over now," Mrs. Boner invited them.

Since there was no restaurant in the village, Ironside's people accepted. The Boners lived in an apartment above the post-office.

"So you are police officers of San Francisco. But what are you doing here? Are you on vacation?" Mrs. Boner asked.

"Actually we wanted to take part in a reunion of criminalists. But our boss has vanished. Now we are looking for him," answered Eve.

The telephone rang and Mrs. Boner jumped up as if stung by an adder.

Rebecca noticed the Americans' surprise and explained: "The telephone is for my parents the most important tool for their work. Its ringing is like an alarm for them."

Now that she had taken off her oversized old parka and the ski cap it became obvious that she wasn't one of those typical sweet, cuddly little girls. She was very skinny, with a delicate, pointed face and short hair. She was dressed in a pair of far too large blue-jeans, kept together with a lace, and a thick dark boy's shirt. No wonder that Ed had mistaken her for a boy at first.

When Mrs. Boner came back she explained in French: "That were the police of a village called Stammheim. Thanks to the license number, they have already found that green VW. But it's empty, the thieves have abandoned it. And that's probably the end of the story."

Eve translated that to Ed and Mark. With Rebecca's help Ed explained to the Boners the matter with the dark shadow behind the rear window and that there was a faint possibility that this had been Chief Ironside.

"It's a long shot, but we have nothing else to go on. Let's have a look at that car!"

Mark asked: "Ed – what about our little interpreter here? Wouldn't it be helpful to have her with us?"

Ed nodded, and Eve translated the question for Mrs. Boner. Rebecca didn't understand the translation, but she didn't need it. Her eyes were shining with joy, but she wisely kept her mouth shut.

"Well, I don't know ... she's a feisty little girl. I don't want her to bother you."

"It's no bother at all. She helped us a lot this morning. Not everybody knows French as good as you do, and in that case she can translate between the local people and Sgt. Brown. We will bring her back before seven o'clock tonight if that's convenient for you."

"Okay, Rebecca – but you will change into decent clothes! Hurry up!"

Barely three minutes later – Mark hadn't even finished his coffee - the little girl was coming back. She was now wearing clothes in girls' colors, although they were quite old-fashioned. But at least they fitted better to her slim body: Red pants and a hand-knitted white pullover.

"How do we get to that village – Stammheim?" Eve asked Mrs. Boner.

"Rebecca knows the way, it's near where her grandmother lives. And if she's a pain in the neck – don't hesitate to shut her up."

Since the fog lifted a little, they could see the lovely vineyards which had given the region its name. Ironside probably would have been interested in them.

Rebecca knew the way all right. She obviously tried to be a nice, quiet girl who only spoke when asked.

"Why did you wear boys' clothes this morning, and too large ones?"

"You see, my mother normally sews and knits all my clothes herself. But she likes red and I don't. So I once got for my birthday those blue-jeans from the store you've seen. Unfortunately, there's only one model, and that's for a bit... well ... stronger children than me. Because you can easily keep them together, but people won't buy them if their children don't fit in, you understand? And the shirt - that's just one we got from somewhere because nobody wanted it."

They understood. That was Swiss logic in general and probably the down-to-earth Boners' logic in particular: Practicability went over esthetics.

Rebecca had been observing the three Americans very closely: Incredibly beautiful, friendly Eve; athletic Mark with his dark skin and the cheerful smile and earnest Ed, to whom she had taken a special liking. Finally she couldn't restrain herself anymore and asked Ed:

"Does your friend come from Africa?"

Ed knew that she didn't mean any offence. He hadn't seen any Africans or Asians in Switzerland yet, just some Italian workers. "You've never seen someone like him, have you?"

"No – well, yes, I have. But it's just a little figure on the cash box at Sunday school, and I don't like that cash box at all, because there's written on it that the little African is thankful for what we give to him. But why should he be thankful while the Europeans have taken the Africans' gold and stuff away? If Mark's come from Africa, I would like to tell him how sorry I am about that injustice."

"You're a very well informed little girl, Rebecca. Mark doesn't come directly from Africa, though. He's an American like Eve and me. But in the U.S.A. we have our own problems between people with black and white skin – our own injustice. I wish people were as insightful as you. But Mark, Eve, our boss and I, we are friends. That's a start, isn't it? And if you want, you can be his friend, too."

That prospect seemed to please the child.

**Leads**

Five minutes later, Mark stopped the rented NSU in front of the local police-station of Stammheim. Here they wanted to ask where they could find the green car and ask permission to search it. But it was closed. A shield announced that the officer on duty would be back at half past one.

Rebecca smiled at the Americans' long faces. "This isn't San Francisco, you know. If the local policeman gets something to do once a day, then he's had a busy day. So he may as well close his office while having lunch."

Mark didn't really mind. "That's a wise thing to do – I mean: Having lunch. Let's do the same. I'm quite hungry, since we weren't able to buy any food in that shop in Dinhard."

Ed didn't want to lose that much time, but Mark was probably right: Going to look for the policeman wasn't worth the effort since they didn't know where, and whether that green car had anything to do with Ironside's vanishing – and not even if Ironside wanted to be found! But they found a public phone, so Eve was able to phone to the reception of their hotel. But no message had come in for them.

There was a restaurant nearby and they agreed on having lunch there.

"What typical Swiss food do you recommend, young lady? And what would you like to have yourself?" Mark wanted to know.

"Roeschti and Bratwurst. Roeschti, that's kind of grated and pan-fried potatoes. Bratwurst is sausage. But I'm not hungry."

The three Americans exchanged glances. Had the child been instructed to behave that way?

"Listen, peewee, we are responsible for you. We don't want any troubles because you get sick or something because you don't eat!" Ed stated.

Frightened, the little girl flinched, fear in her eyes. Ed realized that she reacted as much to the sound of his voice as to his words. What a sensitive child! The more he watched her, the more he got the impression that she was more accustomed to rudeness and hard words than to gentleness or affability. Immediately he tried to calm her down.

"Heyheyhey, that was supposed to be a joke. Of course you don't have to eat if you don't want to. But you may. It's up to you."

"I don't want to be a pain in the neck." Her voice was only a whisper now.

"Don't be afraid, you're not. Look, the serving is too big for me anyway. Let's get another plate and split my Roeschti." Rebecca smiled gratefully at Eve who had found an acceptable solution for her problem.

When they came back to the police-station, the local policeman was just arriving, too. He looked a lot like his colleague from this morning: Large, grey-haired and in his mid-fifties.

Mark wondered briefly if that was standard in Switzerland.

The constable, whose name was Hitz, could understand neither English nor French nor Ed's version of German. Rebecca reliably translated Ed's request. The policeman studied Ed's badge very closely and wanted to know more about the criminalists' reunion (which made a big impression on him, for of course he wasn't invited) and about Ironside's vanishing (which Ed couldn't really explain). Finally he gave his permission to search the car. Naturally he had searched it himself before noon. He was sure that they would find nothing more. But delighted by his own importance he proudly showed them his findings: A black ski mask and an empty plastic bag.

"What about fingerprints?"

"No distinct ones. I'm sure they wore gloves. Everybody does at this temperature."

"Where did you find the car?"

"It was - still is - parked in front of the railway station in Ezwilen, that's a little further down towards the Rhein river. They may have taken the train to flee."

"Did you get the personal description of the post-robber who was seen in the office, so you could try to locate him on a train?"

"Yes, I did. But that was quite general. Of course he took the ski-mask off, that's why I found it in the car. Nobody could have recognized him on a train. And moreover, Ezwilen is quite an important railway junction. There are trains leaving to different directions, one of the lines even to Germany."

"But surely you asked the stationmaster if he had noticed something special?"

"Listen, I was going to do that right after my lunch break. But probably he hasn't seen anything. And I had the right to having lunch, hadn't I?"

Ed didn't want to upset the policeman more than necessary. It wouldn't do any good anyway.

"I'm sorry if you got the impression that I doubted your work (which of course he did... ). May we see the VW now?"

"Yes, immediately. You can follow my car."

From a long distance they could see the green Volkswagen in front of the railway station.

While Hitz went to question the stationmaster, they took a close look at the car, not really expecting to find anything.

And there wasn't much, the car looked empty indeed. Ed opened the luggage space. Immediately he noticed some obviously new scratches in the car paint.

"Look – there's enough space to stuff a folded wheelchair. But those scratches could have come of a wheelchair unloaded in a hurry. It's possible that the Chief is with them."

"Perhaps he has left a sign for us!" Mark held his hope up.

Hidden in the fold of the rear seat, Eve found an empty cigarette box. It was ripped open, but scrunched up. Very carefully – in case there were some fingerprints – she examined it.

"Ed, Mark - can you read that?" On the inside of the box, hardly visible, there were some stains of rose color: Perhaps some shakily written letters and ciphers.

They agreed that it was very probably 'A 2126'.


	4. Chapter 4

... it was probably 'A 2126'.

Mark took a smell at the box. There wasn't just tobacco, but also some kind of perfume. "I think it's written with a little soap, the kind you find in bathrooms of hotels. That would fit well to the Chief."

"But what could that mean? Not the license number of another car – they contain two letters."

"'A' for 'Austria'?"

"Or 'A' for a town, they have four-digit postal codes – Rebecca, do you know one?"

"There are a lot – Aarau and Arth-Goldau are probably the biggest in Switzerland. Near here there's Altikon or Andelfingen... But 2126 would have to be somewhere in the western part of Switzerland, probably in Jura, I think. It would have to be a village though and not a town. Towns usually have a 0 at the end, except the quarters of the big ones; but those I would recognize." That was obviously a post office clerk's child!

"But why should he write an 'A' if the postal code perfectly describes the place?" Mark objected.

"Is it perhaps a street – for 'Autobahn' like in Germany?" Eve proposed.

"No, in Switzerland they are called 'N' for 'national streets'. And there aren't such high numbers."

"We're in Switzerland... What's typical for Switzerland?" level-headed Ed tried to keep an open mind.

Quick as a shot Rebecca answered: "Our direct democracy! We can not only elect, but also vote in view of factual issues."

"That's very impressive, but probably a little far-fetched," smiled Ed.

Mark tried his luck: "Mountains, chocolate, numbered bank accounts and the cuckoo clock!"

"Mountains – Ed, Mark might be right: What about 'A' for 'altitude'?" Eve was quite excited now.

But why on earth should they take the Chief up onto a mountain?

"Wait... the highest village of Switzerland and of all over Europe, Avers-Juf, lies at 2126 meters absolute altitude." That was Rebecca's knowledge.

"Great – but how do you know? You don't learn such things in first grade, do you?"

Rebecca blushed. "No, not exactly. But our class is together with the children of the fourth grade, in the same room, and they are learning that kind of stuff. Everything they learn is a lot more interesting than writing my alphabetic characters, so sometimes I listen to what they learn. Well, actually quite often."

Ed tried to hide his smile and Eve thought that this probably wasn't a bad system and that it might be intended that smart kids like Rebecca would listen to the learning matters of the older students.

"Avers is a long valley, Juf is just the last village in it. Very few people live there. They speak a very special Swiss-German dialect and further down Rhaeto-Romanic, and some also Italian, because barely ten years ago there was a big retaining dam being finished and there were a lot of Italian workers. Moreover they have a short frontier to Italy."

"And how many of your alphabetic characters did you get done in the meantime?" Mark asked.

"Some. But the teacher didn't like them."

This time, the three Americans couldn't withhold their laughter.

"It's our best guess up to now," Ed decided. "If Hitz hasn't got any results, let's go back to Zurich and have the cigarette-box checked up for fingerprints. Perhaps there's a message for us at the hotel. If not – then we'll travel to Avers."

Hitz hadn't got any useful information. But when Ed – translated by Rebecca – asked the stationmaster if he'd noticed a man in a wheelchair, this one confirmed that he had seen one before noon, and yes, probably a big man. Unfortunately he knew nothing else about him and certainly not where he had gone or whom he had been with.

Since they had promised to take Rebecca back in time, Mark drove them back to Dinhard.

Communication was getting easier by the hour: Rebecca was a very quick English-learner and Ed's German was improving because he remembered more and more of what he had known once.

Rebecca's parents were still working in the post office, although it was closed.

"They have to do the book-keeping. That's why it's usually my duty to prepare supper. They won't be happy that I didn't do it this evening."

This statement of a seven-year-old child answered the question Ed had been considering during the last ten minutes: Whether or not he should try to take the girl with him. He would try to give her a break.

"Eve, ask them if Rebecca can accompany us as an interpreter."

Eve translated Ed's question to French.

Rebecca's mother was a little embarrassed. "You see, with both of us working and old Jane gone, nobody really has time for her, and since she has holydays... I'm sure she would be delighted to go with you. But I'm afraid that she will be a burden for you ..."

"We intend to go to Avers. Because none of us speaks Italian and we probably won't understand the special dialect there, we would be glad to have her with us."

"Then it's fine with me. She can pack her bag herself."

Rebecca did that in a hurry with Eve standing by. Eve wondered how self-reliant and farseeing the little girl acted.

After a short good-bye they left for Zurich.

Not a bad family, Ed thought: Straight, hard-working, reliable people. But there just wasn't enough affection for a child like Rebecca.

**Confederates?**

At the reception desk of their hotel Eve asked if there was a message for them. There was: A letter addressed to Sgt. Edward Brown. Ed opened it right there and then. It was from the police director of Zurich and written in English.

"What's it?" Mark wanted to know.

Abstractedly Ed answered: "It says basically that we shouldn't worry about the Chief. He had to do something for the police director of Zurich."

Eve took the envelope out of Ed's hand and examined it. "There's no stamp on the envelope, therefore it has been delivered by messenger, not by mail."

Mark tried to look over Ed's shoulder, but being shorter than him, that was a bit of a problem.

"Look, there's a time-stamp on it: It went out of his office at 8.30 this morning. That was shortly after we left here – and long before the attempted robbery."

"Perhaps the director had nothing to do with the whole matter," Ed hoped.

"But why didn't the receptionist tell me that there was a letter when I phoned around noon?" Eve asked.

Ed went on, still deep in thoughts: "Or perhaps: Why did the letter take more than three hours to get here?"

Mark proposed to sit down and have dinner while talking. The others agreed.

They choose a table in a corner, hoping for privacy.

In the meantime, Eve and Mark had read the letter, too.

Ed expressed his worry: "We really don't know how much the police director knows and if we can trust him or not."

Mark thought aloud: "There sure _is_ a crook somewhere in this police department. Otherwise we would somehow have been noticed about the Chief's disappearance. But we've no way of knowing who it could be."

"The Chief originally trusted the director. And he's usually a good judge of characters."

With Ironside unavailable, Ed was in charge, and he took that very seriously. He sighed. "Okay, let's sound him out. Eve, please try to reach him by phone and ask him if we can meet, preferably here."

It took Eve some time to get through to the director. But when she came back, she had good news: "He'll be here in ten minutes."

Ed explained to his associates what he expected them to do. Then the door opened and a distinguished gentleman in his fifties, not unlike Commissioner Randall, entered the lobby. He was obviously looking for somebody, then he headed towards the Americans' table.

Ed stood up: "Good evening, Sir. Are you director Mayer?"

"Yes, I am. I suppose you're Sgt. Brown from San Francisco police."

Fortunately, Mayer's English was quite good.

Ed suggested: "Can we go for a little walk?" Mayer nodded, and together they left.

**Adversaries?**

Shortly afterwards, a man in a blue suit headed for the door. Eve and Mark exchanged glances, then Mark followed the man in the blue suit... but not only Mark. Invisibly for him, a short man with brown curls stepped out of the lobby, too.


	5. Chapter 5

... but not only Mark. Invisibly for him, a short man with brown curls stepped out of the lobby, too.

Rebecca had sensed the pressure on the three young people and had stayed perfectly quiet. But now she whispered agitatedly: "Shouldn't we follow that man?"

Eve denied. "No, that's fine. We know enough now."

"This Mr. Ironside – he's not just your boss, is he? Perhaps more like an older friend – or like a father for you, Mark and Ed?"

Eve nodded, smiling. Many adults would have needed a lot longer to understand that.

Ed and Mayer headed towards the Limmat river. On the bridge, Ed came to a stop. Since the bridge was quite crowded, he couldn't see if they were being followed. But then he noticed Mark. "We've got company."

Mayer looked back, too. Now he recognized Mark. He had been told that Chief Ironside had chosen his staff thoroughly. He was convinced of that now.

They walked along the river so that an eventual spy wouldn't be able to understand them.

"What do you have to tell me?" Ed asked.

"It's you, Sergeant, who wanted this meeting, isn't it?"

"With all due respect, Sir, but you know that you can trust me. I don't." That was a bit hazardous of a Sergeant of detectives towards a police director. But that one understood that Brown had second thoughts. In his opinion, he might have put Chief Ironside in danger, to say the least. Mayer acknowledged the young man's loyalty to his boss. He sighed.

"You're right. We've got a problem. Your Chief has disappeared."

"That's hardly news." Ed's voice still sounded rather formal.

"That's about as much as I know. I tried to reach you by phone, but you were away, and I didn't want to leave another a message, because there has to be a dishonest man among my senior officials. But I have no idea which one it could be."

"So you wanted Chief Ironside to help you?" Ed could understand that: An external professional could probably find out more than the director himself – especially if this professional's name was Ironside.

"That's it. But now I'm worried. I sent a car to get him, but he never arrived at police-headquarters."

"Do you know about that robbery in the 'Weinland'?"

"What robbery?"

"The attempted post-robbery in a little village named Dinhard."

"Ah, that one. Yes, I've heard about that. But what's that to do with our case?"

"Ironside was there, in the back of the car the would-be thieves used. He left us a message in the abandoned car."

Mayer was impressed: Those Americans were strangers in his country, but they had already found out more than he himself!

"Would you tell me what that message was?"

Ed hesitated just a second. But he didn't have to be smarter than Chief Ironside. He decided to trust Mayer. "It was just a character and four ciphers, A 2126."

Mayer had no clue of what to make out of that. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"Just a guess – 2126 is the altitude of Avers-Juf."

"That's right. I wish I had assistants like you!"

"We had a good teacher," said Ed – thinking too late that this probably wasn't very courteous, considering the fact that he was talking to the teacher of supposedly less smart assistants... But his boyish smile showed Mayer that he didn't mean any offence.

"But why should the men who seem to have abducted Chief Ironside – why on earth should they have tried to rob a post office?"

Ed put his hands into his pockets and smiled again: "We've no idea. But this whole affair is actually your business, not ours, isn't it?"

Rather than being offended, Mayer felt cheered up by the young Sergeant's humor. "You mean it's time that I did my part of the job, too?"

"Exactly."

Getting serious, Mayer proposed: "Since I can't trust my own people, I would be glad if you could handle the case and drive to Avers. Of course I will try to find out whatever I can. And I will give you a warrant for other police officers, saying that you have the right to every support you need. Problem is that we don't have a real federal police in Switzerland like your FBI, just cantonal ones. But that warrant will still help, I hope."

Ed comprehended that Mayer could do nothing more.

"If you have a trustworthy police-designer, Mark could help you find out who spies on you. There might be another one which Eve has seen."

"Unfortunately I don't even have that much - although usually Swiss police officers are known to be very straight!"

"What about the man you sent to get Ironside?"

"He was found in the police-garage with a bump on his head. I'm sure he's honest, but he's no policeman, just a driver. He won't be of much help."

Ed felt almost sorry for the director. But he still hadn't entirely forgiven him for endangering Chief Ironside. They had to find him as soon as possible!

Finally Ed handed the cigarette-box over to Mayer who would check it for fingerprints.

"You will get Chief Ironside's prints from our police-department. Please let us know if there are _none_ of them on the box."

When he left, Mayer deep in thoughts followed the tall, slim frame with his eyes, comparing Ironside's smart assistant with his own, Wachtmeister Fink. That was also a promising young man in Sgt. Brown's age, although larger and heavier – physically stronger probably, he thought, not without pride - but hardly such a quick thinker. But more importantly: In an equal situation - would Fink be as loyal to him as Brown was to Chief Ironside?

**Obstacles**

The following day, Ed, Eve, Mark and Rebecca left Zurich early in the morning.

Rebecca had slept in Eve's bed, and Eve was bewildered at how much space such a small child needed in a bed: She seemed to have at least a dozen arms and legs, not to mention a whole lot of spiky knees and elbows. Two or three of them were always exactly where Eve wanted to place her tired head. All in all she hadn't slept more than an hour or so. She didn't keep that against the child, but she hoped for a little thoughtfulness from Ed and Mark – in vain, as it turned out.

They all were worried for the Chief, of course – but this wasn't the first time he had been abducted, and he was usually perfectly capable of taking care of himself. So they weren't really scared for him, but kept up their confidence.

The radio-stations had warned that the masses of fresh-fallen snow of the last days might cause snow-slides. People should preferably not drive up to the mountains. But Ironside's people had no choice.

"Mark, please drive carefully!" begged Eve, being afraid of ice and snow on the road.

The snow on the roads actually slowed them down, and after about two hours' driving they reached an instruction plate saying that they had to mount snow chains. Fortunately, there were some in the trunk compartment. Rebecca knew exactly how to mount them. Ed and Mark, who had no experience with the task at hand and behaved like two buffoons, had a lot of fun with Rebecca in the process, although the temperature had gone down to about -10° Celsius, about 14° Fahrenheit. But at least the rental car had an efficient heating.

They passed a little town named Thusis and came into a huge, very impressive canyon.

"That's the Via Mala, which means "bad road". It's not that bad anymore though", explained little Rebecca.

There was a new, quite large street indeed – nearly a highway, overcoming the difficulties of the canyon with many tunnels and bridges. The only inconvenience was the snow, but with their snow chains they felt quite safe. Traffic was very light. Obviously, most of the people had taken the warnings of the radio-stations seriously.

But in one of the tunnels, towards the end of it, Mark had to slow down abruptly: In front of them, there was a traffic jam. Coming closer they saw smoke – and then flames – a burning car – no, two of them, wedged together!


	6. Chapter 6

Instantly Ed grabbed the car's little fire-extinguisher and jumped out. Mark turned the NSU around and fled downwards, knowing very well that fires in a tunnel were extremely dangerous. He had to protect Eve and Rebecca.

Ed saw that two middle-aged women were getting out of one of the burning cars, coughing, but seemingly all right. But in the other one - a new Audi 100 S - there were people trapped inside. The woman on the co-driver's seat was obviously trying to get out. In a panic she tried to open the door but didn't manage. Ed was well aware that he wouldn't be able to extinguish the fire entirely. He concentrated on the right front door. But nevertheless his fire-extinguisher was empty too soon. With his handkerchief around his hand he pulled at the handgrip. The door seemed to be jammed. Mustering all his strength Ed pulled at the handgrip, afraid that it might break. But suddenly the door gave way. Ed extricated the co-driver, a woman in her sixties: Unharmed, but disoriented and shocked. With a calm, decided voice he ordered the two women of the other car: "Take that lady out of the tunnel!" They seemed to understand his American-German - or his outstretched pointer finger - and obeyed, guiding her away upwards.

The next problem was the driver. Ed could only get to him from the co-driver's side, because the other one was damaged.

Flames were already licking into the passenger's compartment. The elderly man sat there motionless. Ed clasped him around the chest and tried to pull him out of the driver's seat. The man wasn't very tall, but quite heavy. Ed inhaled some acrid fumes and had to cough, but against all odds he managed somehow to get the man out. But that wasn't enough: The fuel of the cars could explode any minute. Ed had to get the man away from them – but would he manage? This man was heavier than himself!

"Need a hand?" - Never Marks voice had sounded sweeter in Ed's ears.

"Where are Eve and Rebecca?" asked Ed, breathing heavily.

"They're safe below the tunnel."

Between them, they carried the old man away. On the upper exit of the tunnel, there was a bridge. The three women were waiting there, and a Jeep was approaching.

Mark and Ed laid the driver of the Audi down and covered him with Ed's Parka. He was conscious now and his breathing was regular, although a bit labored.

Ed stepped towards the jeep. A bearded man opened the window: "What's the matter?"

In English, Ed answered: "Car accident, the cars are burning."

The bearded man understood. „How can I help?"

"Please call the fire service, an ambulance and the police."

"Will do." At that, the man turned around and left.

An explosion startled all of them, although Ed and Mark had more or less been expecting it. Thick black smoke came out of the tunnel.

"Let's get a little further back," Ed ordered.

Obviously, the three women felt comforted by the tall stranger who calmly told them what to do. In order to help them to understand the disturbing events Ed made them explain what exactly had happened: Already on the icy bridge the two women had lost control over their car and had skidded into the tunnel. There they had hit the correctly running Audi. They didn't know what had started the fire and hadn't been aware of the explosion-danger they were in.

About half an hour later, they could hear the sirens of the fire service and a police car. A doctor followed in his van. The fire service instantly started to fight the fire in the tunnel.

The doctor took care of the old man, and shivering Ed got his Parka back.

"The next ambulance is in Thusis, but that one can't get through. From south, the nearest one would take two hours to get here", the police officer in charge explained.

The doctor was confident: "The man will be all right – thanks to your quick help! A few hours' rest and he'll be as good as new."

But Ed and Mark soon realized that it would take hours, if not days, to clear the tunnel.

How should they get on? They had a job to do, and soon!

Ed addressed Hosang, the police officer, explaining him that Eve, Rebecca and their car were on the wrong side of the still burning cars, and showing him Mayer's warrant. Passing was obviously impossible.

"There's a footpath over the rocks above the tunnel. But with all that snow I wouldn't recommend it, let alone with a woman and a child. However if you get to Andeer, then there's another police car at our police post. You can use it, of course. And thanks for your commitment. Without you, we would have at least one, perhaps two deaths."

Mark urged: "Let's go and try that path. If it's too dangerous, we can still let Eve and Rebecca behind. But they are probably very worried about us."

The two young men were glad that they had met heavy winter boots. Carefully, they struggled through the snow, the slope to the canyon being dangerously steep.

They reached the lower end of the tunnel out of breath, but in one piece. Eve and Rebecca were waiting impatiently in the NSU, which was parked safely beside the road. They were shivering now that the heating wasn't working any more.

"Oh Ed, Mark – when we heard that explosion, we were so scared!" Eve even forgot her cold hands and feet.

They deliberated on whether Eve and Rebecca should drive back to Thusis and wait there in a hotel. But Eve absolutely wanted to help finding the Chief... she was the special apple of his eye, and she knew it. She felt that she _had _to be with the men.

Ed wasn't happy with this decision. The responsibility was weighing heavily on him.

Little Rebecca proved to be very practical. She opened the trunk compartment and took the towrope out. She fixed one end of it around Eve's waist, then the other one around Mark's.

After closing up the car Ed took Eve's hand and helped her through the snow. They had the advantage of being able to use their own footprints, so the way back was a lot easier. Rebecca was almost too reckless for Ed's liking, but it was Eve who slipped several times. Together, Ed and Mark could hold her. So they reached the bridge without casualties.

Hosang, the policeman, just scrawled onto a chit of paper that Ed had to be given the spare police car in Andeer.

Of course with the blocked tunnel there was nobody driving upwards right now. The team had to walk for about an hour until they reached the next village, Zillis. Fortunately they immediately found a farmer with a Jeep taking them to Andeer. They passed the famous church of Zillis. Rebecca lectured them: "Its oldest part was built more than 1100 years ago. There's a very famous ceiling with pictures of the twelfth century. You should have a look at them once!"

At the police post in Andeer they showed Ed's badge, Mayer's warrant and Hosang's chit of paper. Without further questions they were given the keys to a patol car which was parked in front of the police post. Again Mark was taking the wheel.

**Certainity**

Soon after Andeer they passed a hotel named "Rofflaschlucht". A sign invited: "Rofflaschlucht – pass _below_ the Rhein!" Rebecca, playing tourist guide again, explained: "There's a famous waterfall where you can..."

Eve yelled, and Ed immediately saw why: In front of the hotel there was a wheelchair standing on the car park!


	7. Chapter 7

... In front of the hotel there was a wheelchair standing on the car park!

Ed jumped out of the car. He recognized the wheelchair as being Ironside's. Had they finally found the Chief?

Mark parked the patrol car and they went into the hotel. The landlord confirmed that four men had passed the night in his hotel, one of them a big man in a wheelchair. His eyes had been operated, as it seemed, for he was wearing some kind of eye-patches. And yes, they had left this morning at about eight o'clock. He was surprised to see the wheelchair and a station wagon standing on the car park. He then explained to them that there had been a car-theft: An old Citroën had been stolen, a black 1952 'Légère'.

"Could it be that those four men stole the Citroën and left the station wagon?" he asked. "There was a reunion of drivers of 'Traction-Avant-Citroëns'. They left for Andeer in order to file charges, because the police said that they didn't have time to come here."

Mark wondered why the thieves might have taken an old car and left a modern station wagon. Ed just had to take a look at the gas gauge: "The gas tank's nearly empty, that's why!"

"The 1952 'Légère' - that's one of those with the square trunk cover," Rebecca threw in.

"You're right, little one – how'd you know?"

Rebecca made a face. "My father has a 'Traction Avant' 1948 model. That's his big treasure. In my family you can't avoid knowing everything about every Citroën in the world and beyond." Everybody laughed and Ed thanked the landlord. They knew now what they were looking for.

Eve was thankful for one thing though: "If they have blindfolded the Chief, they don't intend to kill him!"

Soon after they had passed the Rofflaschlucht and entered Val Ferrera, it stopped snowing and it cleared off. But the higher up they came, the higher the walls of snow on both sides of the road became. In one place there seemed to have gone down a snow-slide recently: They could see that the road had been cleaned with a snow-blower.

It was late afternoon when they finally arrived in Avers-Cresta, at 1960 meters altitude. To Avers-Juf, the highest village, there was still a distance of six kilometers. But Cresta was supposed to be the main location of Avers, so they stopped there, although it was actually only a small hamlet. Nevertheless there were two surprisingly large hotels, both built around 1900.

The Alpine scenery was most impressive. The valley was open now, but the mountains on both sides were still high and cliffy: A very rough, but in a special way incredibly beautiful high valley. The hamlet lay in the shadow, but the peaks of the mountains were illuminated of the last sunbeams. Eve and Rebecca couldn't help but being amazed.

Ed and Mark were looking around carefully, but not because of the lovely landscape: Had the kidnappers hidden the car in one of the garages or barns in the village?

Meanwhile Eve and Rebecca were waiting for them in front of one of the hotels, beside the police car.

Then the light started to fade, and overtired Eve was getting very cold. Her fur coat was very pretty to look at but hardly suitable for this extreme climate. "May I have a cup of coffee in the hotel while you wait here?"

"No problem!" laughed Rebecca in her best English, and Eve left.

Suddenly Rebecca saw the Citroën: It was coming from the upper part of the valley, from Avers-Juf!

The driver of the Citroën slowed the car down and he seemed to point to the patrol car and the child. Had he recognized Rebecca?

For a moment not knowing where her friends were Rebecca shouted: "Ed, Mark, come quickly, the Citroën's here!"

**Defeat**

The co-driver jumped out of the car and grabbed her crudely. "You be quiet or we'll see to it that you are!"

The little girl was frightened. For a second she seemed petrified.

Ed came running around the corner of the hotel. Furiously he shouted at the man: "Let that child go!"

"You stay right where you are or I'll break her little neck!" was the answer of the man.

Ed stopped dead in his tracks. He saw Chief Ironside on the rear seat of the car. Meanwhile, the driver was getting out, too.

Rebecca turned around in her capturer's hands in one brisk movement, and like an eel she squirmed free. Trying to run away, she had to pass the driver of the Citroën. This one would have grabbed her, but Ed was quicker and stopped him, tripping him up. But the man just stumbled and got his equilibrium back very quickly. He was larger than Ed, but nevertheless he moved very fast. Ed could avoid his fists two or three times, but obviously the man was a very skilled fighter. He got Ed into his ribs, then his gut. At last Ed managed to fight back, getting in a few blows himself, but then Ironside's voice out of the Citroën reached him: "Ed, watch out!" Too late though: The first man came to the driver's help and slammed Ed violently against the wall of the hotel, then landed another blow into his gut. Ed collapsed like a pocket knife. At this instant, Mark – wherever he had come from - intervened. With a few fisticuffs he surprised the two goons who had never before seen an African or Afro-American – except the little one on the Sunday school cash box - and they retired, even though only to gather themselves.

Unfortunately, Rebecca hadn't run away, but had watched in horror what had happened. So she didn't notice the third of the men getting out of the car. He grabbed her and pointed a gun to her head.

"Okay everybody," he shouted. "That's enough now. We will get into our car and take the cop and this kid with us."

Distressed, Mark and Ed watched as they drove away, downwards, a helpless Chief and Rebecca with them.

Ed, huddled against the wall of the hotel, was panting heavily and pressing one arm against his stomach, where he had been hit repeatedly. But the despaired, guilt-ridden look in his eyes told Mark that he didn't care the least about himself, but only about Chief Ironside and the little girl whom he felt responsible for.

Gently Mark shook his shoulder: "Hey, you ok?"

"'Course. But the Chief and the kid ... we've got to follow them."

At that he struggled to his feet and moved shakily towards the patrol car.

Mark took the wheel. Dangerously fast he followed the Citroën.

Eve, who came running out of the hotel, just saw their rear lights disappear around the next turn.


	8. Chapter 8

About a mile below the village Ed and Mark saw the Citroën turn right, following a steep driveway upwards. A local farmer who crossed them with his jeep stopped, shook his head angrily and informed them: "You won't get up to Avers-Platta with this car. But neither will those idiots with their Citroën. Sooner or later they will have to turn around, there's too much snow up there and the road will get worse the higher they get. And besides it's dangerous. Wait and see if we'll have to go out and rescue them!"

Ed understood enough of that tirade that he and Mark parked the car and followed the Citroën on foot. Soon they didn't hear the engine of the old car anymore.

Both of them were basically fit and athletic, although Ed wasn't at his best after the previous fight. But that didn't matter now. They were almost running upwardly, breathing heavily and worried half to death. After about twenty minutes, the road was almost flat for a few yards. There was a deep canyon ahead, so the driveway had to take a sharp turn to the right, a switchback. In the middle of this switchback, the driver of the Citroën was obviously trying to turn around, because above, the snow on the driveway was too deep.

"Stop it right there, you know we have your boss and the kid!" Two of the goons were standing at the wayside, keeping a sitting, blindfolded Ironside and Rebecca at gunpoint. Probably everybody had left the car to lighten it while one of them turned it around. Ed and Mark tried to stop, but that wasn't possible right away because they had been running, and they slithered further towards them. The men obviously panicked. Rebecca, aware of that, managed to squirm free again, but she lost her footing and slipped down the slope, into the canyon. The one holding Ironside tried to grab her, but missed her. Instead he accidently pushed the handicapped man over the edge, too.

The hillside was very steep, and in the masses of snow both of them had no possibility to come to a stop: Ironside because of his handicap and Rebecca because she was too light.

Further down, there were just rocks bordering a little creek. Not giving a thought to his own security Ed - usually so level-headed Ed - jumped after them.

Mark shook his head. This might very well be suicide. Resigned he followed Ed.

With his long legs, Ed was able to run through the deep snow downwards. Stopping would be another matter though. He managed to grab the little girl and even slow down a bit. But then Ironside's heavy body hit him from behind. The momentum threw him around and onto his back. He needed a moment to realize that he was skittering headlong into a canyon, a child in his arms and Ironside still pushing him involuntarily.

He struggled to get at least his legs downwards, while his first responsibility was to protect the little girl. They came to an abrupt stop hitting a larger rock. Fortunately, the impact was softened by a thick layer of snow. Squeezed between Ironside and the rock Ed felt that Rebecca tried to squirm free of his arms. "Chief, are you all right?" he asked anxiously. For once he was extremely relieved to hear an angry growl.

Mark was now skittering by, too. He helped Rebecca and Ed to get up. Ironside had lost his blindfold. Fortunately, none of them seemed to be seriously hurt.

"What are we going to do now?"

"We can't go down into the canyon. There's no other way than back up to that car – and there are those goons."

"If we stay here, we'll be frozen in a few minutes. It's getting very cold now, around -15° Fahrenheit, I suppose. We have to try to get up. I mean – you have to try. If you don't manage, leave me here," Ironside decided.

"There's no question of leaving anybody. Come on, Mark!"

Each of them took hold of one of Ironside's shoulders. "Can you follow?" Ed asked Rebecca.

"Sure, don't worry!"

It took all of Mark's and Ed's strength to drag the Chief upwardly. They tried to avoid any thought about what this treatment would do to Ironside's back.

Mark was panting for air under the heavy burden. He was tempted to make a remark about the Chief's waistline, but up on the road there were criminals with guns waiting. So it probably wouldn't have been wise.

Ed had to fight for every step. His bruised gut and back were still hurting. To him it looked like Mark was managing the job a lot better than himself. But he, Ed, was the Sergeant. He was Ironside's right hand man. It was impossible that he would be first to ask for a stop. He had to go on...

But then his legs buckled and he broke down. Mark thought that he had just slipped, but Ironside knew better. So, when Ed tried to struggle to his feet, the Chief said, sharper than intended: "Stop it. It's no use. I'm too heavy for you."

For a short moment they didn't budge, then Ed tried to gasp for air and talk at the same time: "'Becca - can you - try - to get - the towrope - o' the car?"

She nodded and struggled her way up to the driveway.

Ironside and his men couldn't see what was going on in the dark, but soon the end of the towrope came down towards them. Unfortunately, it was just the prescribed five yards long – too short for their need. Rebecca had fixed it around a post lining the driveway.

Ed and Mark had to drag Ironside a little further up. But then they could take hold of the rope with one hand. That helped a lot. Ironside himself caught the rope to support them. When they reached the small road, two of the outlaws helped getting Ironside over the edge – but the third one aimed his gun at them. Ed tried to stay between the men and Rebecca in an attempt to protect her.

"There's not enough space in the car. Let's just take the cop and leave the kid here", the driver decided.

Slowly the Citroën drove away with the Chief still as their hostage.

Now that the sweat of their struggling up was getting cold, Ed, Mark and Rebecca started shivering – but it wasn't just the minus-grades.

On foot, they followed the car. After a turn they saw the red rear lights of it. The criminals had to drive very carefully, because the Citroën really wasn't the ideal vehicle for snow-covered roads in the mountains.

Because the flank of the main valley was very steep, too, the driveway would meet the main road in a very pointed angle, upwards into the valley, where Ed and Mark had left the patrol car.

"Mark, we could take a shortcut – run directly down to the main road. If they turn downwards we might still catch them."

"That's true – but we still have no way of stopping them!"

Rebecca twitched at Ed's Parka: "I remember seeing in summer that once a big haystack fell onto a road. The car underway had to stop immediately, because the driver couldn't see anything. Can't we try the same thing with snow?"

"That's it! Mark – let's give it a try. Rebecca, you follow us slowly and very carefully!"

Ed hated to leave the child behind, but with her they wouldn't make it in time. And then the snow was probably much less of a danger for her than those criminals.

**Resistance**

With renewed hope and energy the two young men ran down the mountain flank, vertically to the slope. It was dangerous in the dark for they didn't know the compound at all. But they didn't care.

Along the road, the face of the rock was about three yards high. Above those, Ed and Mark pushed together as much snow as possible. They could already hear the engine of the old car...


	9. Chapter 9

They could already hear the engine of the old car...

When the Citroën was exactly below them, they tossed the whole pile onto it. The criminals had to stop immediately so as not to drive over the border of the street. Ed and Mark jumped down onto the road and pulled the front doors of the car open, catching two of the men. But the advantage of the astonishment quickly passed and Ed and Mark found themselves face to face with at least equipollent opponents. For the third time today Ed missed his gun: They were just guests in this country and he wasn't allowed to carry a weapon. Mark was a very good fighter, but so was his adversary. The Afro-American felt himself slowly pushed towards the rocks. Ed's strong and square-shouldered adversary - the driver again - pulled a knife out of a holster and Ed needed all his agility and experience to keep from getting stabbed. But his strength was abating fast. He had spent too much of it in the last few hours. The knife pierced the sleeve of his parka and in a reflex Ed clasped the wound below. His enemy already considered himself as the winner, but suddenly a new snow-slide came downhill. There followed a muffled bang and a cry.

The two criminals where frightened and bewildered, whereas Mark and Ed knew instantly what to make out of that... Rebecca!

In spite of the searing pain in his arm Ed managed to knock the knife out of the other man's hand, but that one was still stronger than himself and wrestled him down. For Mark, two seconds were enough to knock his adversary out. Immediately he came to Ed's help.

Ironside had been held at gunpoint by the third criminal. The bang directly above their heads stunned both of them, but Ironside was the first to recover. He caught the gun and turned it the other way round.

Mark pulled Ed's vanquisher away from him and gasped: "How many times do I have to rescue you today, buddy? Next time you'll have to buy me a beer!"

"Amen, brother," Ed smiled, and for a second he permitted himself to drop back into the snow.

Then Rebecca came gliding down from the roof of the car.

"Ed, Ed, are you all right?" She was very upset now – but considering the events of the last couple of hours this was probably no wonder.

Immediately Ed pulled himself together. Pressing his injured arm against his body he struggled to his feet. He embraced the little girl, trying to calm her down. "Yes, peewee, everything's fine now."

"Hey, Rebecca, I wanna be hugged, too! _I'm_ the one who defeated those two goons!"

Of course Mark got his hug – around one leg, because he was still restraining one of the criminals.

"How much longer will I have to freeze in this flaming car? This isn't Fiji, you know!" That was Ironside, of course.

Ed leaned against the car, hiding his bleeding arm. "A little while longer, I'm afraid. We will need help to get you out of here. We'll take this trio with us, up to the village. Can you hold on?"

"Of course I can. Just do your job."

Ed picked the towrope out of the trunk compartment of the Citroën.

"Handy thing!" Mark joked, thinking of the other two occasions when they had used a towrope today – and never to its intended purpose.

He tied two of the goons into a nice package. Now they looked like Siamese twins and would just be able to walk together, but not much more. Mark took the knife and ordered: "Come on, you two – let's get you into proper Swiss police custody."

Ed intended to take the third one and the gun, but when Rebecca took the first step, she seemed to stumble and fell down with a small hiss.

Ed stopped dead in his tracks. That wasn't like her. He noticed her pained facial expression. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just can't stand on my left ankle."

He took a closer look at that ankle. Above the hiking boot it was already swollen. He would have to carry her.

"Chief, I'm sorry – there's a change of plans. Would you please take care of our friend here until we come back?" He made the man sit down on the co-driver's seat and handed the gun back to Ironside.

With a grim look Ironside accepted the situation. "So we'll keep each other company. But I suggest that you are good company in order to stay in good shape. Get the picture?"

Ed picked Rebecca up and the strange procession got going.

At first, Rebecca seemed to be quite stiff in Ed's arms, but then she relaxed. She couldn't remember ever having been carried or feeling protected like now. It was a good feeling. Hardly audible she whispered into Ed's ear: "Thank you." And somehow, he understood that she was talking about more than just the last few minutes.

They passed the patrol car but didn't risk using it with the two captives, so they had to walk all the way up to the village.

Reaching Avers-Cresta, they encountered Eve, who was anxiously looking out for them in front of the hotel: "What about the Chief?"

Mark answered: "He's fine. We'll get him right away."

Eve knew better than to pester them with further questions but led them into the warm lounge of the hotel.

In the light of the lounge Eve and Mark noticed Ed's disrupted parka and the blood on his sleeve. Carrying Rebecca sure hadn't done any good to his wound, although she wasn't heavy at all.

Of course, Eve was worried: "What do we do now? There's no doctor within at least an hour's drive!"

Ed appeased her: "That's no problem. A bandage will do, and there are more urgent things to worry about right now."

"Ed - you didn't have to carry the child. You should have said something!"

"No." Ed just smiled, and Mark accepted his friend's decision.

**Warming up and cooling down**

Three farmers were sitting in the hotel-lounge having a drink. They seemed to fit well into that valley: Rough-looking, stocky men, bearded or at least only shaving on Sundays for churchgoing. The oldest of them stood up and introduced himself as Burteli (Bartholomé). He was shorter than Ed by nearly a foot but obviously he would have taken him on anytime if necessary. He watched the strangers intrepidly, but questioningly.

Rebecca was carefully sat onto a chair. She translated Ed's arrangements:

"Please lock those two bandits in a secure room and call the cantonal police of Andeer."

But one of those – Ed's former adversary, the large young man with the knife – protested fiercely in Swiss German: "Stop that nonsense at once, I'm a policeman, Wachtmeister Fink of Zurich police! You'll find my identification card in the left pocket of my jacket."

Burteli wanted to see Ed's badge, too. He looked a little confused now.

"You just have to call the vice-director of Zurich police, Mr. Schneider, he will confirm you that I am what I pretend to be!"

"Don't believe him!" Rebecca exclaimed. But Ed straightened out:

"This might be true. But I have a warrant of _director_ Mayer of Zurich police." He showed them Mayer's paper. "Of course you might want to verify it by calling director Mayer by phone."

The farmer trusted his own judgment more than all that paper – and he believed the little girl.

It was just a matter of probability.

The two men were locked in the central heating of the hotel – a room without windows – bound together just like they were. The cantonal police of Andeer was alarmed. But they stated that they would prefer leaving the matter until next morning, if the suspects were locked in securely. There was no patrol car left, since one was already below Avers-Platta and the other was still needed in the Via Mala.

Burteli and the two other farmers went along with Mark to get Ironside and the third criminal and clear the road with a snow blower.

A very short and large woman presented herself as Trina, a first responder. Because doctors and hospitals were far away she was usually the one who had to perform first aid in accidents.

Ed's arm-wound looked worse than it was. "It's just a scratch, please take care of the child first!" he begged her.

Snow had penetrated into Rebecca's boots and clothes (and Ed's and Mark's, too, of course), partly melted and refrozen, and they had to free her of ice and snow. Trina carefully bandaged Rebecca's ankle and made her lie down on a couch beside the big old cockle stove, which was being used together with the central heating on cold days like this one. Moreover she covered her with a thick blanket. "There are no broken bones as far as I can tell, but the child is frozen stiff. The poor lambkin shouldn't have been out there for so long." Ed's German didn't permit him to explain how this could have happened.

After that, Trina cut the blood-soaked sleeve of Ed's shirt off to be able to tend to his wound. It was more than a scratch, but not much more. She disinfected it with iodine. It stung like hell, but Trina didn't bother. She dressed the wound and put the arm in a sling. "You'll be sore for a few days, but you'll live," she announced with much less feeling than before. She was used to seeing injured men and didn't worry too much about them. It was usually their own fault anyway. But noticing that Rebecca was still shivering, she ordered Eve to get her a cup of tea in the kitchen: "Put a lot of sugar into it, she's too thin anyway." She gave Ed a reproachful look as if this were his fault, too. Eve left to get the tea.

Ed tried to thank Trina, but she stated that doing such things was simply her responsibility.

When everyone was gone, Ed took a seat beside the couch where Rebecca was lying. She was very pale.

"I'm sorry that you hurt your ankle. I hope it will be better soon."

"That's no problem," she said and smiled wearily, but she still looked very unhappy.

Ed wondered a bit about her. She wasn't the type of girl who makes a fuss about a spread ankle.

"Come on, Rebecca – something's bothering you. Please tell me!"

She had to fight back her tears now. "Ed, I'm so sorry. It's my fault that you are hurt, isn't it? Because I didn't pay attention and fell down onto that car."

Relieved Ed laughed at her, but took her cold hands in his. "No, that happened before you arrived. Actually you distracted the thieves so that we could overpower them. And besides – it's really just a scratch. It's hardly hurting anymore. You see: The two of us, we are the wounded heroes and the others have to do the remaining work. That's perfect, isn't it? Just relax and try to sleep a little."

Later, Ironside rolled in. There had been an old wheelchair available for cases of emergency, but the tires where flat and nobody could remember where the pump had been put away. Moreover it hadn't been constructed for big men like the Chief, and it squeaked at every movement. So, although finally "rescued", the Chief wasn't in the best of moods.

He noticed his Sergeant with his arm in a sling watching over the sleeping child like an archangel. "What's the matter with your arm?"  
>"Nothing," Ed answered in a low voice in order not to wake Rebecca. Ironside frowned. That was like if you asked a little boy standing next to a broken window what he had done: "Nothing." But for the moment he let it go.<p>

"What about the girl?"  
>"She'll be all right."<p>

Because Ed didn't look like he would leave the child's bedside soon, Ironside placed himself at the table nearest to him.

Through the open door to the kitchen they heard a high-pitched voice: "Trina, that whole bunch of American bandits should have stayed in America. We don't need that kind of people, do we?"

"The ones in the cellar are the bandits, Anna-Babali, the Americans aren't. They are policemen, and the child is Swiss."

"How come that she's with them?"

"I've no way of knowing that. Perhaps the policemen have kidnapped her."

"Really? Do you think they might have done that?"

Trina's answer consisted of a short snuffle.

**Background**

Mark and the three farmers came in, all of them stomping to get the snow off their shoes. Mark took a seat at Ironside's table. "The third one's in the central heating room, too. Everything's under control."

The farmers were stopped by a thin woman with a long, pointed nose. Obviously she was the owner of the high-pitched voice.  
>"Have you heard that? Those American cops might have kidnapped the little girl! That's incredible, isn't it?"<p>

"Yes, Anna-Babali, that's incredible. Go get us a beer, we'll have a drink with those kidnapper-cops."

Unceremoniously Burteli, Hitsch (Christian) and Joeri (George) sat down at Ironside's table.

"And now, Sir, we'd love to hear the whole story!"


	10. Chapter 10

"And now, Sir, we'd love to hear the whole story!"

It turned out that none of the farmers was capable of speaking French, and since Rebecca was asleep they needed another interpreter.

"Does the teacher understand English?" Joeri asked Burteli.

"No, I don't think so. But the pastor is smarter than the teacher. He's even been to university; I'm sure he will be able to translate. Hitsch, go get him!"

By the time Hitsch came back with the church minister of the valley, Eve hat returned, too, and the table was set with farmhouse bread, alp-cheese and air-dried sausages. But Ironside didn't get an opportunity to eat, he had to tell his part of the story, translated by the pastor, a friendly, gray-haired man:

"Yesterday, when Mark went to get the newspaper, I opened the window for some fresh air. I was studying the map of the region, when the telephone rang. Police-Director Mayer told me that he wanted to see me. It was urgent, he said. And since my speech at the reunion wasn't due until tomorrow afternoon, I agreed. He would send a driver to get me.

Only a few minutes later, a room-waiter knocked at the door. He brought a bottle of wine. It was a gift from the police Director, he said. But right behind him, two masked men stormed into my room. Obviously they had needed the room-waiter to get to me. They knocked the waiter out from behind and one od them pulled a gun on me and ordered me to come with them. I said that I had to go to the bathroom first, pretending that paraplegics had to do that very often.

There I looked for something to write. But the only suitable item I found was a little soap, and a box of cigarettes. Then I heard the two men talk about something in Dinhard. That was the same name as the one of the wine. In retrospect I think that they might have bought it when they spied out the place for the intended robbery. I had seen the name of the village on the map. I couldn't risk writing a message onto the mirror like I had intended, because they came too close: They placed the waiter under the heavy lamp to make him believe that he had hit his head and passed out. So I pretended to knock over the bottle with my arm and replaced it onto the map where that village was situated, hoping that Ed, Eve and Mark would get the message.

The two men put eye-patches onto my eyes and probably dark sunglasses. Presumably they took their masks off afterwards.

In a station wagon, there was a third man waiting. I can't imagine why they tried that foolish rubbery in Dinhard. They lost a lot of time driving in the wrong direction in order to mislead the police. I couldn't see where we were driving, but I overheard that they wanted to get to Avers the same evening. I remembered reading about Avers-Juf lying at 2126 meters altitude and managed to write A 2126 into my cigarette package with the soap and put it into the rear seat.  
>We took the train until Zurich. There, they stole a car, another station wagon, probably because of the wheelchair. Believe it or not – there wasn't enough fuel in the tank to get up to Avers, but they noticed that too late. Since they were afraid of being recognized, they didn't want to refuel. They decided to pass the night in the hotel "Rofflaschlucht", right where Avers valley begins, and intended to steal another car in the morning.<br>I heard the one they called Fink make a phone-call in the room next door. As you know, one can detect a phone number by counting the number of snaps when the dial plate turns back into place after dialing each number. The number was 051 37 28 91. Eve – call Directory assistance and ask whose phone number this is! You'll have to dial 11. That's the Swiss telephone information."

Eve threw in: „Let me make a guess. It's probably Schneider, the Vice-Director of Zurich police."

Ironside was surprised. "How would you know that?"

While Eve headed for to the phone, Mark explained what had happened when they had arrived at the hotel with the first two criminals.

Eve came back with a triumphant smile: "It's indeed the private number of Vice-Director Schneider!"

"Ed – then it's your job to inform Director Mayer!"

Reluctantly Ed got up to explain the whole situation to the police Director.

In the meantime, Ironside went on:

"There was a reunion of members of a Citroën-club. Because of the bad roads, they wanted to have a cup of coffee at hotel Rofflaschlucht, where we had passed the night, take a quick look at the waterfall and then drive back. My companions stole one of those old-timers and put me into it, leaving my wheelchair behind, because the trunk compartment was far too small. But we didn't get far: There had been a snow-slide during the night. We had to wait about four hours in a restaurant in a little village called Ausserferrera until the street was free. I later overheard the three of them talking about a cottage in Avers-Platta where we were supposed to hide. The cottage belonged to somebody they knew – I'd say Vice-Director Schneider. But Fink didn't know the way to Platta, and because of the high snow-walls he couldn't see a sign-post, so he went up too far, up to Avers-Juf. There, he was told that the branch-off to Platta was further down. And the rest of the story is common knowledge."

It wasn't quite, and Mark narrated his point of view in his unique way, so that there remained no doubt that he was actually the hero of the whole adventure.

Ed returned and sat down at Rebecca's bedside again.

Everyone else had to tell their own experiences now, and for every newcomer to the restaurant, the whole story had to be re-told. A bottle of wine was brought in and farmers and police officers drank to close friendship with one another. It didn't matter that the wine was cheap and acid – it served its purpose.

The pastor observed the quiet young man beside the cockle stove. He stood up and rested his hand on Ed's good shoulder. "Are you all right, son?" he asked in his low, caring voice.  
>Ed smiled. "Yes Sir, I'm fine. I'm glad that the Chief is safe and that I don't have to carry the responsibility anymore."<p>

"He's quite a man, your Chief, isn't he?"

"You can tell that again!" Ed answered, proud to be a member of Ironside's staff.

**Cuckoo Clock**

The cuckoo clock at the wall already showed midnight when the company finally decided to leave.

Eve went up to her and Rebecca's room to prepare the bed for the child. But she came back shortly afterwards. "It's so cold up in the bedroom. I'm afraid that Rebecca will wake up if we put her to bed."

Ed shook his head: "I'll stay here with her."

When everybody had gone out, the door of the lounge reopened and Trina came in. She laid a blanket around Ed's shoulders. Her voice sounded a lot softer now, almost motherly: "It might get chilly towards dawn. Good night."

Then Ed was alone with the sleeping child.

Hours later a sound made him jump. "No, please, I'll be good, please, don't ..."  
>In her sleep, Rebecca was speaking Swiss-German and Ed didn't understand every word, but nevertheless he was worried. Something had to be very wrong here. The events of the day seemed to have disturbed the child, or perhaps brought up bad memories.<p>

Carefully he tried to wake her up, softly talking to her. Nevertheless she was startled and sat up abruptly, staring at Ed with fear in her eyes.

Spontaneously he took her in his arms, trying to calm her down.

After she had stopped shivering he asked her sensitively:

"Who hurt you? Your parents? And don't tell me that there's nothing."

"No – not really. It's probably just my imagination."

"Do you think that they don't love you?"

"No! I'm sure they do. But look – when I was born, they already had a girl and a boy, both of them a lot older than me. They wanted to build a house and had - still have - to work hard for that. They needed a third child about as bad as toothache. You have to understand them. I'm just a burden for them. All of us would be a lot better off if I didn't exist."

For a moment, Ed was at a loss for words. How could he help this sensitive child? In certain points she was probably only too right. But perhaps he could try to re-frame her view of herself.

He sat her onto his left knee and braced himself for a nightly theological disquisition.

"Listen, Rebecca – to begin with: I'm very happy that you exist, and not only because you probably saved our lives today. You're a very special little girl.

Secondly: You said that you go to Sunday-school. Then you know the Good Lord, and that he has created the world and everything – the people, too, don't you?"

She nodded earnestly.

"So – if your parents didn't actually want a third child, who do you think wanted, that you were born?"

"You mean – the Lord himself wanted me to be?"

"Exactly."

The sun seemed to rise in the small face. She didn't say a word but pressed her head against Ed's shoulder and tried to embrace his chest under the sling with her thin arms. Ed would never forget the joy he felt – a little girl had found a reason to live.

Carefully he laid her back onto the couch, and a minute later she was sound asleep.

Ed heard the enervating "peekaboo" of the cuckoo clock at the wall every hour. Right after the seven o'clock peekaboo there was the sound of footsteps, and he was relieved that the night was finally over. He was expecting to see Anna-Babali and hoping for some breakfast. But when the door opened, it was police-Director Mayer who came in – with dark circles around the eyes and obviously depressed. He must have been on his way since three o'clock in the morning.

**Revelations**

Ed got up, stretched his long limbs and cramped back as good as possible in the low-ceilinged room and greeted Mayer friendly. Now that Ironside was safe, there was no reason _not_ to be friendly.

"Where are the captives?" Mayer wanted to know. He just threw a glance at Ed's arm, but didn't say a word, feeling somehow guilty and embarrassed.

Together they went down to the cellar. Mayer drew his gun while Ed opened the door to the boiler room. The three men were quietly sitting together, none of them made any attempt to get out, although they had been untied.

"Fink – follow me," Mayer ordered. His voice revealed his disappointment about his assistant. He wanted to talk to him in private – unsure about their present relationship.

Ed went back to the lounge. When he passed the kitchen, there was the sound of voices and the lovely smell of coffee. That banished every thought about Fink and Mayer of Ed's mind and filled him with pleasant anticipation. Eve was coming down the stairs in an equally cheerful mood. But how did she manage to look neat as a pin after this whole ordeal? Normally earnest and neatly dressed Ed himself with his five o'clock shadow, the damaged shirt, his bandaged arm in the black sling and his happy-go-lucky smile looked like a very young, carefree pirate. Eve smiled approvingly and linked arms with him.

In the lounge they met Rebecca, who was already walking around, although with a bit of a limping. She would be all right in a little while. Mark and the Chief, equally unshaven, for none of them had been able to bring along a sewing bag, were ready for breakfast. Ironside had slept in a ground floor room because there was no elevator. He was relieved to see Ed and the child hale and hearty, but as usual he tried to hide his feelings under a mask of grumpiness. But his friends knew anyway, and Rebecca wasn't impressed at all, but seemed to feel the soft hart under the hard shell.

Anna-Babali came in, bringing bread, butter, jam and later coffee and milk. That's what Swiss people considered as breakfast – the only alternative to "Roeschti". The relief of being safe and together made the meal much more enjoyable than expected. And then, the coffee was surprisingly good and strong, the dark bread was fresh and the strawberry jam tasted even better than at home.

When they were at their second cup of coffee, Mayer and Fink came in. Fink was stooping, he seemingly didn't dare to stand straight. Both of them were offered seats and some coffee.

Mayer looked somewhat relieved. "Of course I will have to verify Fink's statement, but it seems that he was forced into that whole affair by my Vice-Director. He will be relegated, but he might get a second chance in the police department. That depends partly on you, Sgt. Brown: Will you press charges against him because of physical injury?"

"No, I won't." Ed smiled, although slightly squint. "But I'll have to work out for our next encounter."

Fink understood his embarrassment. Ashamed he admitted: "This time, the conditions were hardly fair, not to mention the different weight class. I'm very sorry about your arm."

Mark threw in: "Oh, from time to time he has to be reminded that good old Mark Sanger's always ready to rescue him!"

Ironside wasn't satisfied. "But what was behind the whole matter? What was Vice-Director Schneider's intention?"

"The Italian Mafia must have learned about the criminalist's congress. Most of the European police Directors were invited – and you, Bob. The Mafia considered this as a chance to work without their most prominent adversaries. In the meantime we've heard of big bank robberies, art theft and other crimes in Rome, Paris and London. It seems that the Mob in San Francisco needed more time, so they corrupted Schneider. It was never intended that you should be harmed, though. Now Fink's girlfriend has a dark past, drugs and so on. Schneider threatened to reveal that, if Fink wouldn't help abducting you. Fink asked his buddies from his boxing-club for help – and those wanted to finish their previously planned job in Dinhard first, because they were under pressure themselves, having gambling debts they couldn't pay back in time. -  
>I suggest that you leave our beautiful country soon after your speech this afternoon: There will be some work waiting for you at home, I suppose."<p>

A finally shaven Ironside in his best suit impressed his audience at the congress with an inspiring speech. His wheelchair had been picked up on their way down to Zurich. Apart from a few new scratches it had overcome the whole ordeal unharmed like Ironside and his team.

Eve, Ed and Mark answered questions. There was a lot of praise and back-slapping – except for Ed: With his sling, everybody handled him with kid gloves, especially the ladies, as Mark noticed mockingly.

**Business as Usual**

Immediately afterwards they took Rebecca home: A child with a new self-esteem and joy of life. Then they flew back to San Francisco.

They had barely been able to open the door of Ironside's apartment-office when the phone rang. It was Commissioner Randall. "Bob – it's incredible. As soon as you'd left for Switzerland, the crime-rate seemed to escalate, and there were rumors of a really big thing, whatever that might be. I absolutely need you on the case of ..."

The End.


End file.
